


Strong

by Zoe13



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: Happy Ending, M/M, OCD, Self Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-19
Updated: 2014-07-19
Packaged: 2018-02-09 12:10:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1982460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zoe13/pseuds/Zoe13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Michael's self-confidence has been shattered since he was small. And now, with the attention of the world upon him and his bandmates, things only go downhill.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Luke was all clean edges- straight legs, clean-cut hair with a smooth quiff...straight, straight, straight. In every sense of the word.

Michael, however, was all rough, wobbly edges. And definitely not straight. He was the 'homo' his dad had always accused him of being. He was short, he was ugly, he was fat.

And now, to top it off, everyone was saying that he was untalented too. With that, his last shred of self-esteem was severed.

Ugly, fat, gay, untalented,  _unwanted._ Could the list get any longer? 

He had scars too, scars his dad had left before his mom had found out and taken him away. A scar under his rib cage where a rib had broken through the skin. A scar under his razor cut hair that rested on his forehead- skull fracture. One of his arms was slightly shorter than the other after having been broken, but that was less noticeable. Scars that were physical, mental, and emotional. Scars that a fourteen-year old Michael had been told would show that he was weak.  _"I hope it leaves scars,"_ his dad had said.  _"I hope you're left with a reminder."_ Well, it had. And Michael didn't know what to do with them, so he pushed them to the back of his mind. _  
_

_______

"Aren't you going to eat your pizza?" Luke asked Michael, frowning. He and Michael were in Calum and Ashton's hotel room where they had ordered room service. Michael stared down at his food.

"M'not hungry," he mumbled. He couldn't figure out why, but he hadn't felt like eating all day. 

Luke's frown deepened. "I hope you're not coming down with something." He rested his hand on Michael's forehead, feeling the temperature. "Shit! You're freezing!" 

"Sorry," Michael mumbled, wanting to kick himself at the fluttering in his chest from the touch of Luke's hand. What was that about?

"You should get something warmer on," Calum commented around a mouthful of pizza. 

"I think I'll just go to bed and see if I can sleep off whatever this is," Michael said, standing up. Michael wanting to sleep was nothing new, so they bid him goodnight without a second thought.

He pulled his key card out and entered the room next door, shutting the door and changing into pajamas. He wasn't tired, just cold, so he slid under the blankets and pulled out his phone. It was only 7 P.M. But he froze as he saw the date. It was the anniversary of the day his father had almost beaten him to death.

He hadn't met Calum until after that incident, so none of the boys knew. His mom didn't mention it because she felt partially responsible. She and Michael's dad had divorced and Michael stayed with his mom every other week and his dad the weeks in between. She'd had to work to pay off the divorce and hadn't noticed the  bruises and cuts until she went to pick him up and found him unconscious in the living room of his father's vacated house. She'd gotten full custody by the time Michael got out of the hospital.

He should be over it; it had been years. 

Michael shook his head and got on Twitter to distract himself. 

 _Michael Clifford is so gay._ Well they got that right.

 _Michael Clifford is so ugly but the others are so hot! What happened there?_ Ouch.

_i love how the boys all have their cute quirks- except Michael. He's just a weird freak._

_michael Clifford should just kill himself. I hope he at least cuts. He's that emo and whiny._

Michael shut off his phone quickly and put it on the nightstand, curling into a ball under the sheets and blinking back tears. They fell anyway and he gave in, crying as silently as possible.

He was glad his back was to the door when Luke came half an hour later. He wiped his eyes quickly.

"Are you awake?" Luke said softly.

Michael isn't trust his voice and so he breathed slowly, hoping Luke would think he was asleep.

Luke seemed satisfied after a moment and Michael closed his eyes. He fell asleep soon after.

_______

The next day Michael felt more clingy. He made physical contact with his bandmates as much as possible, whether it was curled up by one of them or just a hand on a shoulder. He felt especially clingy with Luke and they interacted a lot during the show. They sang at each other and Michael managed a few real smiles even though the night before had made him more depressed.

Something weird was happening that had to do with Luke and Michael didn't understand it. He couldn't have avoided Luke if he wanted to, though, because Calum and Ashton wanted to share a room all of the time now that they were together, which left Luke with Michael.

He couldn't help but get back on twitter and quickly found that that had been a huge mistake.

_is Michael Clifford in love w/ Luke hemmings cause he kept staring at him like it_

_are Luke and Michael together cause that would be gross_

_Michael needs to keep his gay hands off of my baby. Luke's straight you homo_

_does Michael think Luke would love him back? Because that's just laughable_

Michael inhaled sharply. In love with Luke? No. Not-not fully.

But oh god. He was _halfway_ in love with him.

He suddenly stopped breathing, staring at his phone in shock.

He was half in love with Luke Hemmings.

Luke hadn't yet noticed his odd behavior, and he slid off of the bed and locked himself in the bathroom, sitting on the edge of the bathtub. How could he like him? Luke was perfect. He was clean-edged, sane, strong, thin, and _absolutely beautiful._

Michael didn't know what to think other than _pathetic_. That's what he was. _  
_

Shit, what if Luke found out? Michael paled at the thought and all feeling fled.

He went numb and confusion filled him. He'd felt like this before- how had he dealt with it? He remembered the thin lines that were now faded to nothing and quickly got up, grabbing the razor he'd left out and breaking the head. He pulled the sharp blades out and threw the rest into the trash. He selected the biggest blade and rolled back his sleeve, setting the sharp edge to his skin. He slid it across quickly and his mouth formed a silent gasp as blood filled in the slit and a few drops leaked out. 

Ten minutes later he was in bed, long sleeves and a bandage covering 13 red cuts. They were beautiful, straight lines.

_______

The next day he stressed, half watching Luke and half looking at everything but the other boy. Ashton started giving him funny looks when the odd feeling kicked in that the picture on the hotel room wall wasn't straight and Calum's pants and sweater really should not be on the floor.

He still wasn't hungry at lunch and he passed the time in the restaurant rearranging the sugar and salt packets into neat rows. He left them in neat, clean rows like the cuts on his arm.

Luke gave him several long, searching looks that made him panic and quickly get on his phone to avoid meeting his eyes. But what he saw on it was worse.


	2. Chapter 2

By the end of the week he'd convinced the boys that he was sick, thrown up what little food he ate, littered both arms with hundreds of cuts, lost a little weight, and color coded his luggage. Luke kept looking at him but his expression was something Michael hadn't seen on his face before, not worry or suspicion. Other than Michael almost getting caught sneaking glances at Luke, it didn't worry him. 

Ashton and Calum, who were still a relatively new couple, didn't interact with Michael and Luke quite as much. It kept them off of Michael's back but also meant that Luke was more focused on Michael and, while he might not have guessed yet, Michael knew he was smart and would piece things together eventually.

He knew that Luke would never love him and that he would never deserve the other boy, but he was determined to make himself the least repulsive he could in what time he had in hopes that maybe Luke would still want to be friends after he found out. Though it didn't seem likely, a voice in his head that sounded suspiciously like his dad told him.

_______

Luke started noticing after Michael lost ten pounds, and Michael didn't know what to do. He found himself constantly reading hateful messages, hiding in the bathroom with his razors, or fixing everything that was crooked or out of place. Luke's foreign expression mixed with concern and Michael did everything he could to ignore it. 

He found himself cleaning up Ashton and Calum's room one night. They had a four day break and two days of being in the same hotel room meant that Ashton and Calum's things were everywhere.

"What are you doing?" Luke asked him. He was watching him from where he sat on the bed. Ashton and Calum looked up and noticed too.

Michael dropped the armful of clothes. "Nothing. Bored," he said quickly, sitting in a chair and clasping his arms with the opposite hands. He pressed gently on the cuts underneath the layers of cloth and gauze and fought to still his shaking hands.

All three of his bandmates were looking at him concernedly now and he cringed inwardly but stared at them openly on the outside. Luke slid to the edge of the bed and sat there, facing Michael.

"Are you alright, Michael?" He asked. 

"Of course," Michael said, but it was weak and he couldn't look into Luke's piercing eyes while he said it.

"Michael," Luke said frustratedly, standing up. Michael stood up too, ready to bolt for the door. Looking Luke in the eyes had a tendency to make him gush the truth. 

"I'm fine."

"No, you're not," Luke growled, and Michael accidentally met his eyes.

"Why are you asking? It's not like _you_ care!" He burst out, and Luke looked at him in shock. Suddenly he reached up and slapped Michael across the face, _hard_.

Before Michael realized it he'd hit him back and Luke's eyes were filling with tears.

Horror filled Michael and he staggered back a step as Ashton and Calum shot to their feet.

"Oh god- Oh _god_ I'm just like him!" Michael cried out. "I'm sorry. God, I'm sorry Luke..." 

He turned and tore out the door, ignoring the calls behind him. He fumbled with the key at his and Luke's door but he managed to shut it in Calum's face and lock it. He stumbled to the bathroom, his father's laughter roaring in his ears. 

Then he was on the bathroom floor with red running down his arms. The cuts he was making weren't clean and symmetrical like usual- they were ragged and angry. 

He was just like his dad. He'd hurt Luke- fuck, he'd _hit_ him.

_How can I say I care so much about him?_

Redsplashed onto the tile in between his legs and he paused, fascinated as it pooled.

Then Michael heard the bedroom door open and he swore as he realized he hadn't even _shut_ the bathroom door. 

"Michael?" Luke's voice called, and _shit_ , of course it was Luke. 

Michael leaped to his feet and grasped the door handle, swinging the door shut, but he was too late. Luke put his foot in the door and pushed it open.

 _"_ Oh my god, _Michael!"_ Luke's horrified face made Michael feel weak suddenly, and he hunched over, arms dripping onto the floor. Luke reached out a hand and Michael collapsed to the floor, curling into a ball.

"Don't touch me! I'm sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you!" His breath hitched and he burst into tears, clawing in short breaths.

"Michael! Michael, stop, breathe..." Luke sat next to him and pulled him up, wrapping his arms around him. " _I'm_ sorry! I hit you first. I- I didn't see this- oh _god_ , there's blood everywhere."

Michael tried to calm down, clinging to Luke. 

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm _so_   _sorry_..."

Luke took a deep, shuddering breath and twisted his fingers into Michael's hair. Michael could hear his heart thudding quickly in his chest. 

"Michael- you're going to make yourself sick, babe," he said softly, and the pet name calmed Michael down a bit, as pathetic as that seemed. He took a deep breath and his stinging arms brought him back to reality.

Luke stood, pulling him to his feet and walking him to the sink. They were both silent as he pushed Michael's hands over it and wet a hand towel, pressing against Michael's back as he reached around and began washing the blood off.

Shame filled Michael at having been caught. Why was Luke so caring? Why was he helping him?

Luke's long fingers were gentle and Michael focused on them through the harsh stinging of the water. He hissed as Luke cleaned an especially deep cut and the other boy tensed.

"Sorry. Shit, Michael," he added as the cuts themselves were revealed when the blood was gone. The bleeding was getting sluggish and he wiped at the deepest ones again. Michael bit his lip at the pain. It didn't feel good anymore and he thought it might be because of the shame. 

After what felt like hours but was really only minutes, the bleeding stopped and Luke stepped away. The towel and the sink were coated with blood and water and Michael stared at it, not daring to move. Luke opened the cabinet and found the first aid kit, opening it and pulling out gauze and tape. He set it next to the sink and steered Michael away, sitting him on the edge of the tub and kneeling in front of him. He gently grasped Michael's pale hand and rolled out some gauze, setting it to Michael's mutilated wrist and rolling it around his arm. Michael held his arm out silently.

"Why?" Luke asked him finally, voice cracking. Michael looked at his arm, not daring to look at Luke's face. "Michael, _please_." Michael felt Luke's fingers touch his chin and lift his face and he couldn't help looking Luke in the eyes.

"My dad- my dad used to beat me," he said. Luke stopped wrapping his arm, eyes widening. 

"When?" He asked.

"When I was fourteen. He and my mom divorced as I went to his house every other week." Michael's gaze dropped and Luke cut the gauze, ripping off some tape and taping it down before moving to the next arm. 

"What happened?" He asked softly when Michael stopped. 

"I almost died one day," Michael said finally. Luke's grip on his armtightened as his whole body tensed. "He realized I was dying and fled. My mom came to pick me up and found me unconscious. She got full custody of me by the time I got out of the hospital and they finally caught my dad. He's in prison now."

Luke's grip softened as he realized he was squeezing his arm and he finished the gauze, taping it down.

"Come on," he said, taking Michael's hand and leading him out of the bathroom. Michael followed wordlessly and let Luke pull him over one of the beds. Luke sat against the headboard and pulled Michael into his side, combing his fingers into Michael's hair.

"Why do... _this_ now?" He asked. "Why did you start- start hurting yourself?"

"Everything my dad told me was right," Michael said. _Stop_! His brain screamed at him. _Stop telling him everything!_ But he couldn't. "I'm worthless. I don't belong here. The fans don't even _like_ me! They think I'm stupid, and ugly, and they keep calling me a- a _fag_. They hate-"

"Stop," Luke choked out. "Just stop it. Those aren't real fans. If they find anything wrong with you then they aren't fans. They're wrong, Michael. You're smart and you're attractive, and what does it matter that you're gay? You can't listen to them!"

Michael didn't know where he got the audacity, but he reached out and took one of Luke's hands in his own, holding onto it for dear life. Luke's arms tightened around him. 

"Help me," he whispered.

"Of course, _god_ , of course," Luke said in a strangled voice. "You don't have to ask. I'll do anything. I love you so much, Michael."

The sun had set and the lights were off, and Michael was glad that Luke couldn't see his face. He couldn't help himself as he wished that Luke had meant it differently. 

"Thank you," he said instead. Luke shook behind him and it took Michael a minute to realize that he was crying. Michael twisted in his arms, pulling back to face him. In the dim light he saw the tears on Luke's face and felt a sharp twinge of guilt.

"I'm sorry," Luke gasped, his hand dropping away from Michael's head.

"Don't cry," Michael begged. His hand moved of its own accord as he reached up and wiped away Luke's tears. Luke's luminescent eyes watched him as his hand fell away, and he caught it, threading their fingers together.

Michael's heart thudded against his chest as Luke looked at him _that_ way again. 

In one movement Luke cupped Michael's cheek and kissed him. Michael's eyes widened and then it was over. Heat flooded him and his mouth wouldn't move to let him talk. Luke's eyes searched his face.

"How did you know?" He asked numbly. Luke looked confused.

"What?"

"That I like you. How did you- why did you kiss me? Did you think you had to?" Michael demanded, his eyes filling with tears.

"What? _No_!" Luke cried. "This isn't pity, Michael, I- I _love_ you!"

"You love me?" Michael repeated.

"Yes!"

Michael stared at him and Luke's face was an open book. He was telling the truth.

Michael dove in, cupping Luke's face and kissing him eagerly, desperately. Luke was clinging to him, running his hands over him as if he was reassuring himself that Michael was real and Michael felt as if someone was electrocuting him. But he felt so good. Luke took charge of the kiss, licking into Michael's mouth, making him feel weak.

He pulled away, finally, and pulled Michael into his chest.

"You should sleep," he said. "It's late. And we- we have to tell Ash and Calum everything tomorrow. They'll find out if we don't."

"Can I stay with you?" Michael asked hesitantly.

"Of course," Luke said. Michael scooted down and Luke followed, pulling him close as they laid down. "I love you," he whispered into his hair, and Michael knew then that everything would be alright.


End file.
